


He Still Won't Shut Up

by Wonderfulworld



Series: Unspeakables [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A little angst, Draco hates cats, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Sequel, Smut, We all hate Lucius
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29196687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonderfulworld/pseuds/Wonderfulworld
Summary: A sequel to Unspeakables (but he won't shut up), each of the days Draco "predicted" but as they actually happen.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Unspeakables [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2103528
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62
Collections: The Dramione Collection





	He Still Won't Shut Up

**Author's Note:**

> The days won't be in the same order as they were in the first one, instead they'll be chronological. You probably shouldn't need to reread the correlating chapters from the first one but there may be little mentions. Hope you like it lol if not I'll just keep working on my other WIPs. Xx

####  February/March 2004 ~ Day 6 of Unspeakables (but he won’t shut up)

Draco Malfoy refused to meet with a therapist. This fact had been true before his hospitalisation, when they would’ve told him he felt a compulsion to control every aspect of his life due to the times he felt out of control, and was true since, possibly because his symptoms had done nothing but worsen. But it was fine. Because everything  _ was _ under control. 

If anything, the week in St Mungos had been a blessing. Hermione Granger no longer smiled nervously at him across the lift or blushed when she caught him staring in the canteen. Now she was right  _ there _ , grinning up at him on their way into work or fighting a laugh at his snide comments during lunch. For the first time he knew where they stood, normally side by side with her pinky finger hooked in his, and his brief hospital stint told him exactly where they'd be going. There was none of the paranoia of dating Astoria and none of the underlying manipulation of dating Pansy, there was a clear future. The first thing he’d done, after the memories had come flooding back and he’d teased Hermione enough to have her retreating back to her office, was write down everything he remembered; the events of each day and exactly what he’d believed at that time. As long as he stuck to those, nothing could get in the way. Everything would be fine. 

The first, and last, time he and Hermione had attempted to live together lasted three weeks. 

The first week was more than bearable, exploring every horizontal surface in his immaculate flat and waking up to a beautiful witch already straddling him. The second week had started similarly, other than a small disagreement about whose plates deserved the prize place on the shelf above the fridge, but had ended in somewhat of a disaster. Draco arrived home after a disaster of a day to an unrecognisable flat, objects and items that he had never seen before scattered along the floor. Stacks on stacks of books surrounded every piece of furniture and he could just make out Crookshanks tail as the beast explored the homemade maze. 

“Hermione?” His voice cracked as he said it, eyes wide as he watched Crookshanks jump onto a particularly unsteady stack. Thirty or so books fell to the ground with a crash and a curly-haired head popped up some feet away behind a large box. She grinned at him and he calmed for a second. “Are we opening a library?” She rolled her eyes and continued pulling more books from the box. Draco finally noticed the problem, their agreed upon ‘single box of books’ was filled to the brim with 5 by 5 cm books. As she retrieved them by the handful she tapped them with her wand and they expanded to their full size; large and heavy enough to knock out a hippogriff. He tripped over five piles of biographies, a large trophy and a box with something that sounded like china plates in it on his way over to her, still grumbling as he bent down to kiss her. She tipped her head up to him and gave him a quick peck on the lips before returning to her task. 

“I’m trying to find Bathilda Bagshot’s Goblin Relations book. I’m in a particularly vicious owl fight with a Gringotts employee.” She pulled out another handful of books, tapping them and then looking through them quickly before adding them to pile now higher than Draco’s hips. He grimaced slightly and moved to the kitchen. Tea; tea would solve this particular problem. 

“I’m certain I already have a copy,” He called from the kitchen, loosening his tie and putting his bag on the hook just inside the doorway. “Have you checked in the bedroom?” She didn’t reply and he sighed. “Hermione?” She struggled with her answer for the moment and he paused rolling up his shirt sleeves as he waited, no doubt something that’d piss him off based on her hesitance. 

“Your version is first edition.” He poked his head back out the kitchen door. 

“And?” She turned to face him, arms filled with even more books, looking guilty. 

“I need the second edition, she added another chapter on the 1612 Goblin Rebellion.” Hermione slid the books onto a stack behind her, running her finger against their spines as she spoke hesitantly. 

“Good for her.” Draco said, turning back to the kitchen before he could say anything else. He heard her muttering to herself as he filled the kettle and shook his head. 

Perhaps they’d moved in together a little too quickly, 4 months wasn’t a long time. Her building was going through massive renovations and she’d already been told the rent would raise after the work had disrupted her life for six months. It seemed like an obvious solution; he had a large enough flat that she already spent three out of seven nights in, he missed her for the other four, his flat felt large and empty when she wasn’t there, he needed something to distract her from the fact that they hadn’t yet been to visit each other’s parents. The list went on. What the list had not taken into account was the sheer obnoxious stubbornness that Gryffindors were well known to flaunt and the quietly steaming rage that all Slytherins kept just below the surface. 

He shook his head at the thought and focused instead on the last two weeks of pressing her against his desk, his kitchen cupboards and the wall of his shower. He reached into a cupboard for his teacup, the chinabone one his grandparents had left him which he used at 6 o’clock each evening and then returned to its spot ready for the next day. His hand was met with a large mug, his head snapped up and he met the eyes of Winnie the Pooh, the devious bastard. He felt a steady anger building in his chest but swallowed it down, searching the rest of the shelf for his cup. It wasn’t there, or perhaps it was lost among other garish cartoon animal themed mugs. The kettle came to a boil and he turned to pull a tea bag from the cupboard. As he did so he came face to face with his mortal enemy, in all his ginger glory. 

Crookshanks was walking along the kitchen surface slowly, beady eyes focused on something ahead of him. Draco avoided making any sudden movements, then he spotted the beast’s next victim. His teacup was lying, vulnerable, upside down next to the sink; a strange habit of Hermione’s was leaving things to drip dry no matter how close her wand may be. The cat settled on his back paws, snarled at the cup and pounced just as Draco jumped forward to save it. Crookshanks missed, instead stomping on a teatowel behind the cup, his claws getting caught in the fabric as he snarled. Draco let out a deep breath and stepped forward to retrieve the cup. Crookshanks turned to face him as he approached the kitchen surface and looked him directly in the eyes before placing his front paw on the cup. Draco stopped moving, hands up in the air in surrender. 

“Crookshanks. Crookshanks-” He whispered hesitantly. The cup edged closer to the end of the surface and Draco swore he saw a smile creeping onto the tiny monster's face. “Don’t- please don’t-” Crookshanks cocked his head and then pushed the cup once more. It hit the floor with a crash and for a moment the two just blinked at each other. 

“Are you ok in there?” Hermione called, upon receiving no reply she stood up, stretched and made her way into the kitchen. “Draco?” 

Maybe the flat was only on the ground floor and maybe her pet wasn’t quite used to his new environment yet. She’d even be willing to admit that perhaps Crookshanks strongly and maliciously disliked her boyfriend. None of this fully excused the scene she walked in on. Draco seemed to realise this as he opened his mouth and nothing came out. He too seemed surprised to be holding Crookshanks a good foot out of the kitchen window. 

“Are you throwing Crookshanks out of the window?” She folded her arms across her chest but there was only a slight teasing in her voice.

“No?” He winced as Crookshanks clawed at his chest and then pulled the beast back inside the house, letting him jump down from his arms as he turned to shut the window. When he turned back Hermione was scooping him up, holding him against her chest lovingly and whispering affirmations in his ear. Draco scowled and she looked back up at him, eyebrows raised as if she was expecting something from him. He sneered. 

“Your bloody cat destroyed my teacup.” He heard the words coming out of his mouth but refused to acknowledge their ridiculousness. 

“Well, don’t leave it on the side where he can reach it.” Draco’s mouth fell open and he gaped at her, the absolute cheek of it. She seemed pleased with his silence, considering the fight won and dropped a kiss on Crookshank’s head before letting him jump to the ground. 

“Are you kidding me?” He said slowly and she studied him for a second. 

“What’s going on with you today?” She was getting annoyed now, a smile no longer tugging at the side of her lips. He turned away from her, throwing a tea bag into the Winne the Pooh monstrosity as he slammed it onto the kitchen side. He was pouring the boiling water into the ugly mug, avoiding the yellow bear’s eyes, when Hermione spoke again. “Draco!” He stirred the tea for an unnecessarily long moment before turning back to her. 

“Just- leave it, Granger.” This did nothing to calm her, hands jumping to her hips and her curls practically expanding around her. 

“No. You’re angry. Why are you angry?” He moved over to the fridge, pulling out the milk and pouring in the exact amount needed. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow as he screwed the lid back on, putting the milk back in its place in the fridge. 

“Am I not allowed to be angry?” She pressed her lips together, raising her eyebrows a little, sucking her cheeks in a little and nodding slowly; the ‘ _ I have no good argument for that but we both know I disagree on principle’  _ face. He scooped a heaped teaspoon of sugar into the tea and stirred it, watching her tap her foot impatiently out of the corner of his eye. He turned around and leaned against the kitchen side, watching her over the rim of the mug as he took a sip. He placed it back on the side and crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you find your book?” She scowled at him. 

“I knew this was about the books!” She pointed an accusatory finger at him and his hackles rose at her accurate assessment. 

Her voice rose louder as she said something about his badly timed jokes. He responded with a quip about Hermione Granger and her books. She shouted back about the unbearable neatness of his flat. She corrected herself;  _ their  _ flat, and then recited a definition of cohabitation. Now he was shouting about nonsense; her cat and her inability to brush her hair. Why was he shouting again? She looked too pretty to be angry at. Oh, because she was shouting too. Something about his mother, avoiding the topic of his father gracefully. They both stopped shouting when she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. He picked his tea up again in silence, avoiding her eyes. 

“It's always cold in here. I'm cold all the time.” He smiled against his mug, well aware that now wasn’t the time but couldn’t help it. She’d complained about the heating practically the moment she’d moved in and he’d been more than willing to offer alternative ways of warming up. He shook the memory of her stretched below him, both of them piled under an apparently necessary three duvets, from his mind. 

“Do you want a jumper?” He won no points for loving boyfriend when he said it with a smirk, looking her up and down. She made a small  _ harumph  _ noise. 

“I have jumpers,  _ Malfoy _ .” She said his last name like an insult, which in a depressing sort of way it was. He rolled his eyes and sighed. 

“Oh, lovely. That old chestnut.” She seemed a little put off at that, guilt crossing her features and for a moment he thought perhaps they were out of the woods. 

“I will pay the extra on the gas bill for the heating if you just let me turn it up to a temperature that sustains human life.” She was aware that it wasn’t about the money, they both were. They weren’t even fighting about the heating, not really. 

“I don’t see how you could possibly be cold when  _ the beast  _ works as his own radiator.” He tried to sneer again but his heart wasn’t in it. Draco nodded towards the kitchen door and there was a small yowl from the living room as if Crookshanks was eavesdropping on them. 

“I can't believe we’re wasting time fighting about heating.” Her hands were no longer wrapped around her, instead tugging at the edge of her sleeves. 

“What should we be wasting our time doing then?” He cocked his head at her and she blinked at him for a moment. Then she took a deep breath and stormed towards him. He pushed himself back against the kitchen side as she approached. She reached up and pulled his head down, crashing their mouths together before wrapping her arms around his neck as her teeth clashed against his. He took a step back from her, holding his tea as far as he could with one hand as he held her face in the other and bit at her bottom lip playfully as he slid the mug away from them. She was already breathing heavily from the shouting, and he almost grinned when he wrapped his arms around her waist and she panted against his lips. Her legs wrapped around his hips automatically and he turned them on the spot, stumbling a little and bumping her against the cupboards as he kept his mouth pressed against hers. 

It had always been like this; quick and hard and in inconvenient places. A naive part of him had assumed that moving in together, quite literally sharing a bed, would change this. He was mistaken. Because it was Hermione Granger and she was always going to be a little unexpected, no matter how many notes he made in his  ~~ journal ~~ notebook. He’d add it to the list of compromises and move on. Of course, there were some things he’d stand his ground on. 

“Um. Hermione?” He felt a little absurd; the woman of his dreams was almost entirely naked, bent over his kitchen side and he was looking at anything but her. She lifted her face from where it’d been pressed against the cool of the kitchen side and looked at him over her shoulder, panting a little and shooting a confused look his way. She spotted his distraction and yelped.

“Crookshanks!” The animal was padding towards them a mere four feet from them now and Draco slowly released Hermione’s hips at the cat’s beady look. All three of them remained frozen, Draco’s hands now in the air in surrender as the orange ball of hair sat himself beside his mug of tea. Hermione looked between them both, remaining ignored as she tried to shuffle out from between her rather lovely, well-endowed and generally brilliant boyfriend and the laminate worktop that no longer seemed like a viable ‘coupling’ spot. “Draco!” 

He hummed in response, wide and terrified eyes watching as his mug was jolted forwards by the tail of his new nemesis. Her hands stopped gripping the edge of the worktop and slapped at him. He finally sprung into action, pulling their clothes from the pile on the floor and shoving them into her arms in a strange show of chivalry. 

~ 

Attempts of seduction, in and out of the kitchen, were put on hold for the next few days as Hermione’s fight with the Gringotts employee reached its peak and Draco filled his own hours with dreams of revenge. The softening charms placed on all valuable objects and the timer placed on the wards to prevent any animals from treading across his face in the mornings lead him into a false sense of security. He was instead ambushed by his  _ other _ roommate. 

“Draco.” Her whisper was warm and close to his ear and he tightened his fingers at her waist, burying his face closer into her neck. “Draco.” He squeezed his eyes shut as light started pouring through the gaps in the curtains and her hand wound into his hair. “Draco, are you listening?” He hummed in compliance and she sighed. “I want to meet your mother.” 

“You’ve met my mother.” Her hands dropped from his hair and he propped himself up on an elbow to study her. “I believe your exact words were chic traditionalist.” 

“Well, yes. Maybe.” She rolled her eyes. “But that was a while ago.” He chuckled and fell back against the pillows turning to face her with a grin. 

“That was  _ last week. _ ” She sat up and squinted at him but he continued. “And I quote you; I’d be glad to never speak to her again.” Her shoulders slumped and her hair almost seemed to deflate.

“You still talk to her, don’t you?” Draco ran the fingers of one hand up and down the inside of her forearm, nodding a little. 

“We send each other owls.” She remained unbothered by his wandering fingers, instead staring off into the distance and glaring at the corner of the room. “She knows about us, she likes to stay updated.” He leant forward and pressed a kiss against her bare shoulder but she shrugged him off. 

“And you’re not in the least bit bothered that I have no relationship with her?” He frowned as he searched for an answer. “She’s your mother.” He grimaced and nodded. “She thought we were dating before and she seemed perfectly fine.” He snorted at that and then covered his mouth to hide his smirk. His mother had been anything but fine at the idea, but there was no need to point out Hermione’s somewhat problematic people skills. She was watching him closely now. 

“Well,” He sighed. “Alright.” She was already climbing out of the bed and huffing to herself. 

“Don’t sound too eager.” She muttered under her breath and he watched her walk out of the room, tugging her dressing gown around her. He closed his eyes again for a moment, listening to her shuffle around the living room and grinning when she swore at Crookshanks for damaging a sofa cushion. 

“Fine!” He shouted, sitting up in bed. Her head reappeared in the doorway. 

“Really?!” She seemed overly eager and a sense of dread started in his stomach. He nodded reluctantly and she practically leaped back onto the bed, peppering kisses over his face and hugging his hips tightly with her thighs. 

~ 

They sat side by side on the couch, Hermione’s arms crossed against her chest as she glared at the single box still unpacked in the corner of the sitting room. Draco switched between watching her with a grimace and attempting to rub away his tension headache. 

Dinner with his mother had not gone well. 

Hermione seemed to be running the evening through in her head, mouthing along the lines like she was reading from a script. Every so often she’d nod to herself before furrowing her eyebrows and sighing. 

“I’m sorry-” Draco started and Hermione shook her head, placing her hand on his knee until he shut up again. Suddenly she sat up straight and turned to him. 

“We’re not going to do that again.” He swallowed dryly and nodded. “And I think I’m going to move in with Ginny.” He let out a slow breath through his nose and counted to ten, squeezing his eyes shut before nodding. 

“Perfect.” He muttered when he’d opened his eyes again and caught her watching him with a nervous expression. 

“I just think we should-” She licked her lips. “Take some time to cool down.” His throat constricted. “It’s not just your parents.” That hurt more than it should’ve done, but he’d seen it coming for days now. Even before his father had appeared in the dining room and thoroughly ruined the night. “Just spend a little while- apart.” 

He didn’t say anything. This wasn’t how it was meant to go. He distinctly remembered trying to break up with  _ her _ . Either way it was the same end goal and it had to happen, it had  _ already  _ happened to some extent. She was less angry than he thought she’d be though, more dejected.

“How long is a while?” 

“I don’t-”

“Just an estimate would be fine.”

“Draco-”

“A few hours? The weekend? A week?” She sighed. 

“Two weeks.” He didn’t have a reply for that. Two weeks was a long time; 20160 minutes and way too many seconds for him to begin thinking about. 

~ 

In fact it would be two weeks, a day, fifteen hours and twelve minutes. 

She was standing outside his office after lunch looking rather forlorn, holding a book tightly to her chest the way he always seemed to imagine her. He forced himself to keep a steady pace, stopping and standing beside her. She looked at him for a second before her eyes started welling with tears and he grabbed her elbow to steer her through the door. 

“Don’t - please don’t cry.” He pulled a tissue from his jacket, handing it to her as he shut his office door with his foot. She took the tissue from him automatically before huffing and crossing her arms across her chest.

“I’m not! I’m not crying.” He stayed silent, sitting in his chair and watching as she blew her nose. He started opening a drawer in his desk when she sat down rather hastily in the chair opposite. 

“Don't you dare try to offer me chocolate.” He fought a smile as he closed the emergency chocolate drawer again, instead reaching to pull her Goblin Relations book from his bag. She placed his own copy on the desk beside it. The covers were completely different colours, not to mention her version had obviously seen more use than his. He resisted the temptation to raise a knowing eyebrow at her but if she wanted to manipulate ways for them to spend time together he wasn’t about to argue. She blushed red but tried to cover it by blowing her nose again.

“So that’s it now?” She tried to sound eager but he knew there was no real energy in it. “All moved out?” His flat was practically dismal now, he refused to believe it had always been as empty as it was when the last cardboard box flew through the floo and he was left in total silence in his perfectly tidy living room. He nodded and she stopped trying to plaster on a smile, instead nodding in return and sliding her book closer to her. 

“Would you like to go on a date?” His voice was too loud and he almost jumped at the sound of it. She just blinked at him. “Flourish and Blotts are doing poetry readings and the wine is free if we buy tickets in advance.” She studied him curiously. 

“Did you buy tickets in advance?” Her tone was almost endearing, as if she knew the answer but wasn’t sure how she felt about it yet. He nodded slowly and started to pull out his wallet to find them. 

“I thought we were broken up, Draco.” She looked down at the books they were exchanging and then back up at him, as if she needed to remind him of how awful the last two weeks were. He stopped pulling out his wallet and thought for a moment. 

“There's no response to that where I don't sound like a bit of a prick.” He said slowly and she grimaced. 

“Maybe we should take a little longer. Apart, I mean.” 

“No! No.” He shook his head quickly. 

“Draco.” 

“No.” 

“I just- I don't understand. You wanted to break up-”

“No! I didn’t. I didn’t. I-” He sighed and pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes for a second. “I didn’t want to tell you.” 

“Didn’t want to tell me  _ what _ ?” He looked up, froze at the glare she was sending him and remembered every secret his friends had ever kept from their girlfriends. He sighed and pulled out the small notebook he’d been keeping in his coat pocket before turning his chair back to her. He kept talking as he turned to the right page, stubbornly avoiding eye contact. 

“It’s- I didn’t want to meet your parents, and you kept bringing it up and I kept putting it off.” She hadn’t stopped glaring. “We break up.” Her face softened and he found the page. 

“After we visit your parents for the first time.” He winced a little as her face dropped but refused to look away. “So I just thought that if we didn’t visit my mother then we wouldn’t have to meet your parents and also, we could avoid my mother which is often-” He was rambling and stopped himself. “I didn’t have a date for it. I just knew that it would happen so- I thought I could avoid it but then you broke up with me anyway.” He attempted a smirk but it was halfhearted. 

“I- this is from the potion? Your accident?” She reached out to touch the notebook but he pulled it back, closing it and sliding it into his desk drawer. “You wrote it all down?” She looked almost worried. 

“I don’t read them too much. I don't want to ruin anything.” 

“Do you think it’s a good idea? Knowing?” 

“I don’t want to get any of it wrong.” 

She hummed and bit her lip, thinking hard for a minute. He held his breath. 

“So-“ A small smile twitched at the corner of her lips. “What if we’re already broken up?” 

~ 

Draco’s hands were shaking a little and he stuffed them into his coat pockets as Hermione skipped ahead of him. She reached the front door of a suburban semi detached house, nothing out of the ordinary or particularly terrifying. She turned on the doorstep and held her hand out, grinning as he jogged a little to reach her. She intertwined their fingers before nodding sternly and knocking on the door. A middle aged woman with short cropped hair answered the door, surprise crossing her face for a moment. 

“Hermione!” She looked back into the house and then tucked her hair behind her ears. “We weren’t expecting you.” 

“Mum. This is Draco. He’s  _ not _ my boyfriend.” Julie, Draco was sure that was her name but maybe he should’ve checked, finally noticed him standing beside her daughter. 

“Oh darling, he’s very tall.” Mrs Granger’s grin was one he’d seen time and time again on the witch standing beside him and it calmed him. “Did you say boyfriend?” Hermione shook her head and her thumb rubbed along the back of his hand softly. 

“No.” Her mother looked confused, glancing down to where Hermione’s hand was clutching Draco’s in his coat pocket before looking between them again. 

“Oh. He’s still welcome to dinner of course but we’ve been expecting-” Mr Granger appeared in the hallway behind her and Hermione grinned. 

“Dad!” Her hand finally slipped from Draco’s as her dad pulled her in for a hug, her mother waved Draco inside and shut the door behind them. Mr Granger waited until Draco had hung his coat up before turning on him. Draco stuck his hand out and the older man took it, shaking it firmly. 

“Ah. The evil boyfriend.” Draco spotted Julie sighing endearingly out the corner of his eye. 

“No, sir. Not boyfriend.” Mr Granger watched him with trepidation but Draco grinned when Hermione rolled her eyes at him from behind her father. Julie started herding the small crowd into the living room, Hermione managing to grab Draco and pull him to sit beside her on a couch. 

“So…” Mr Granger studied them for a second. “Not your boyfriend?” Hermione shook her head, a small smile on her lips, well aware that she was currently sitting as close to Draco as he could be before sitting directly in his lap. 

“We’re broken up right now.” Both parents looked at each other for a second before looking back at the _ not _ -couple. 

“And you brought him over for dinner?” Julie asked with trepidation. “This must be some Wizard thing we’re missing.” Mr Granger nodded alongside her. 

“Something like that-” Hermione sat forward in her seat and Draco prepared himself for the trademark Golden Girl impatience to kick in. She turned to her father. “Dad, Draco was just telling me how much he wanted to learn to drive.” Draco seemed to remember that conversation differently, perhaps because it hadn’t happened. Her dad looked at Draco with something close to eagerness for the first time though so he nodded along. Hermione continued. 

“He’s looking for muggle hobbies.” Julie smiled a little. 

“Well, isn’t that nice.” Hermione pushed forwards. 

“And he has such a nice apartment, you’ll have to come over for tea sometime.” Draco rested his hand on her knee and attempted to steer her off the track she was hurtling down at full speed.

“Hermio-” She shook her head slightly, attention remaining locked on her parents as she continued. 

“And he’s got a brilliant job at the ministry, working on things even magical people find unbelievable. And he’s very smart, he worked on Neville’s parents case that helped with me with your-” Hermione’s breath caught in her throat and she swallowed heavily. Mr and Mrs Granger chuckled a little as Hermione took a deep breath. 

“I just-” Draco’s fingers at her knee squeezed slightly and she finally turned to look at him, eyes wide and cheeks slightly pink. Her shoulders relaxed and she turned back to her parents with an apologetic smile. 

“Maybe let Malfoy speak for himself.” It was becoming increasingly clear that the Granger parents were well aware of their relationship and possibly had been for longer than Hermione had been willing to admit. That thought was pushed from his mind when he found all three Grangers looking at him expectantly. His own eyes darted to Hermione and he fought the urge to shrug at her. 

“I um…” He looked around the living room for some kind of inspiration. He spots it on a shelf in the corner and points. “I’m also a big fan of Jane Austen.” 

“You are?!” Both Granger women asked with seemingly opposing levels of joy. Granted the last time Hermione had brought up Austen it had descended into chaotic fighting but that wasn’t necessarily relevant. 

“Yes. Very much so.” Her own hand joined his on her knee and he turned his over to slip her fingers between his. Mr Granger seemed to notice this but his wife didn’t, instead sitting forward in her seat with excitement in her eyes. 

“Tell me Draco, do you know who Colin Firth is?” Draco shook his head slowly and watched as Julie clapped her hands together and then reached for something he successfully identified as a TV controller. Before he knew it, Julie had sat beside him on the sofa and was pressing buttons until a screen lit up. Hermione chuckled to herself as she kissed him on the cheek before moving to stand by her father, laughing as the man muttered something to her. 

She didn’t move back in and he was too scared to ask, as they pieced themselves back together over the next few weeks. It seemed easier if they didn’t talk about it, then they didn’t need to fight about it and he could keep up the pretense that he was in control. More and more of her belongings started appearing around his flat and he grinned smugly every time he found a mug or a blanket or a shirt that wasn’t there the day before. One day he’d ask again, but maybe he’d wait until the beast died first. 


End file.
